


A Story of Supper

by AhaMarimbas



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cooking, Cooking Lessons, Dirty Jokes, Enemies to Friends, Epistolary, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Mentions of the Dursleys, Meta, Pre-Relationship, Recipes, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:01:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22719583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AhaMarimbas/pseuds/AhaMarimbas
Summary: Due to space constraints, Hogwarts' eighth year students will have to cook for themselves this year. The Headmistress thinks it'll be a great way for them to learn some life skills... provided they don't starve to death first.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 255
Collections: A Very Drarry Valentine's Day Exchange





	1. Eighth Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GallifreyisBurning](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GallifreyisBurning/gifts).



> A huge thank you goes out to Ravenclawkward for their incredibly speedy beta work and incredible support through this process! There's no way this work would be done without them!
> 
> The Harry Potter universe and it's characters belong to J.K. Rowling, I just taught them to cook!

> I am pleased to inform you that your application to return to Hogwarts for the  _ eight yea _ r program has been accepted. Term will start, as always, on the first of September, with the Hogwarts express leaving at precisely 11:00 AM. Please find enclosed the standard packing list. You will note that there is no booklist—any text that professors have deemed necessary for courses will now be provided by the school, in consideration of the many families who are facing higher than usual expenses in their effort to rebuild after the war.
> 
> I must warn you that there have been many changes to the living arrangements and extra curricular options available to your year, in order to avoid disrupting the younger students’ experience. All prefect, head boy/girl, and Quidditch captain statuses have been revoked, and will be reassigned to younger students who are qualified for these positions. Furthermore, all eight year students have been removed from house Quidditch teams, in an effort to provide a fair opportunity to younger students to try out. I understand that Quidditch is an important part of the Hogwarts experience for many of you, and so I have reserved certain time slots throughout each week during which the pitch will be exclusively for the use of the  _ eighth year _ students. 
> 
> The biggest change, however, will be the living arrangements. Since there is not enough designated living space in the castle for an extra year of students, eight year students will be housed in Hogsmeade village. The school board has purchased and repaired an old manor on the outskirts of the village which will house the returning students. While students are of course welcome to return to the castle whenever needed, including for meals, I encourage you all to take this as an opportunity to develop your own independent living skills, which will prepare you for your life after graduation. 
> 
> To facilitate the tensions that I anticipate occurring in this environment, I have created a household tasks rotation. While the elves will ensure that the house is fully stocked with everything needed, everyone will be responsible for their own laundry, and will take turns cleaning shared living spaces and preparing dinner for the entire house. Use of magic to complete these tasks is acceptable, but if the strength of your charms/transfiguration/spells is not adequate, you will be asked to repeat the task without the use of magic to ensure it is properly completed. 
> 
> I apologize for the long missive, but I do hope that these details will help prepare you for these necessary changes. If you have any further questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to contact me.
> 
> I look forward to seeing you at the start of term.
> 
> Sincerely, 
> 
> Minerva McGonagall
> 
> Headmistress  
> 
> 
> Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry


	2. Roommates

“Roommate list,” Hermione read out loud. The eight year students were all piled into the spacious living room of the enormous manor they were now living in. It was rather homey, Harry thought as he looked around. Everything followed a very neutral colour palette, probably in an effort not to favour any one house. 

“Ron and Neville—”

“Yes!” Ron cheered, high-fiving Neville.

“Dean and Justin,” she continued, rolling her eyes at Ron’s exclamation. Dean and Justin gave each other friendly smiles before turning their attention back to Hermione.

“Pansy and Parvati, Padma and Lavender, Ernie and Theodore, Hannah, you’re with me, Seamus and Terry, Lisa and Millicent, Gregory and Blaise, Susan and Daphne, and Harry and Draco.”

Harry’s eyes widened, and his head whipped around to look at Malfoy, who looked like he was trying to melt into the windowsill. He’d been very quiet throughout the feast and trailed behind everyone else on the walk down from the castle. Harry hadn’t spoken with him since his trial had ended in June. They’d been standing outside the courtroom when Harry had given Malfoy’s wand back and mumbled “see you at school, I guess,” before slinking away, hoping to get through the Atrium before the press became too much.

“The chores rotation is also here,” Hermione said, pulling Harry out of his musings. “Don’t forget to check it regularly and complete the tasks you’ve been given.”

A lot of people’s noses wrinkled at the thought of doing chores, but Harry had to admit, he was a little excited. He’d spent his whole life doing gruelling amounts of chores, usually ending the day with a sore back and knees, and for people who treated him like garbage. He figured it was going to be a nice change to clean the house for people who appreciated it. But what he was really looking forward to was the satisfaction of doing things with magic. No more scrubbing the floors on his hands and knees, or having to pick up gross garbage bags with his bare hands. No more streaks left after wiping the mirrors and windows—and even if there were, there was no more Uncle Vernon to beat him for it. Harry cringed a bit at that last thought but then pushed it aside as he noticed everyone else had started moving. Deciding he could check the list later, he waved his wand at his trunk and levitated it up the stairs in search of his and Malfoy’s room.

He found it on the third floor, right at the end of the hallway. He stepped inside to find that Malfoy was already upstairs. He was sitting on the bed on the right, leaving Harry to take the one on the left, near the large window. As he hauled his trunk over to his bed, he noticed another door in the room. He followed it into a small but nice ensuite bathroom. While he didn’t have a problem with any of their housemates, he was glad that he only had to share with one other bloke, instead of ten. 

“McGonagall left this for us,” Malfoy said as he turned away from his inspection of their bathroom. He waved a long sheet of parchment, before turning his attention back to it.

“What is it?”

“A roommate agreement. Her note says that once we fill it out and sign it, it’ll send a copy to her and paste the other copy to the back of our door.”

“What’s a roommate agreement?” Harry asked, making his way over to take a look, and realising only at the last minute that this was Malfoy, and that they probably shouldn’t get too close, lest they get into a fight of some sort.

“It looks like a contract. She wants us to agree on things like sharing belongings, visitors to our room, lights out, etc.”

Harry reached out tentatively and was relieved when Malfoy handed the parchment over without argument. He scanned the list of questions, realising that it was actually a very good idea for them to discuss these things if they were to be living together.

“Do you mind if I…?” he trailed off, gesturing that he wanted to sit in the chair at Malfoy’s desk. Malfoy shrugged, and so Harry sat, summoning a pen as he went.

“What is that?” Malfoy asked, brow furrowing at the sight of the pen. Harry’s eyes widened as he realised Malfoy must have never seen a pen before.

“Um, it’s the muggle version of a quill. It has ink inside it, so you don’t need to carry the pot around all the time.”

Malfoy didn’t say anything, though he continued to watch the pen, as if waiting to see how well it actually worked. Deciding to prove its worth, Harry pulled the cap off and started to write.

“Question one,” Harry read out. “Sharing possessions.”

“Absolutely not.” Malfoy said quickly. “I don’t want you rooting around in my trunk, or ruining my clothes.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “I probably wouldn’t want to wear your poncy clothes anyway, Malfoy. I think this refers more to things like stationary, or snacks. Say I have a box of chocolate frogs sitting on my desk, and you’re studying late and need a bit of sugar. I wouldn’t mind if you took one or two.”

Malfoy seemed surprised at that. Harry wondered if it was the concept of sharing that didn’t sit well with him. 

“If it’s out on the desk or night table,” Malfoy said slowly. “Then I don’t mind sharing stationary, such as quills or parchment, and snacks.”

Harry nodded, and copied that down. 

“Next question: Do either of us have pets, and if either of us have owls, are we willing to share?”

Malfoy shook his head. “I left my owl at home. Did you bring yours?”

Harry felt a lump in his throat at the mention of Hedwig. He hadn’t bought a new owl in the months since the war ended, and he didn’t think he would for at least a few more years.

“I don’t have an owl anymore,” he said softly. “So no pets then.”

Malfoy looked like he was about to say something, so Harry hurried to continue with the questions.

“How do we feel about guests? Are you okay with my friends coming to hang out on occasion?”

Malfoy shrugged. “If they’re not being too loud when I’m trying to study, or sleep, then sure. Would you want my friends around?”

“As long as they’re not trying to hex me or sneering at my muggle objects, then I don’t see why not.”

“My friends have better things to do than worry about your bird’s nest of hair, unless of course it’s going to have things crawling out of it and attacking them. Merlin, I hope there’s a hygiene clause in this contract.”

“You bastard. I’m as clean as you, and it’s perfectly reasonable for me to worry about your friends, considering one tried to kill me, and the other tried to give me up to Voldemort.”

“What would you have done in that situation?” Malfoy shot back. “It was  _ a war _ . You either fought or you died. No one had much of a choice.”

And so it went on. They continued to snipe and argue with each other over every point in the contract. Harry was exhausted, though also relieved when two hours later they’d finished filling out the parchment that had probably only taken everyone else about 10 minutes. He signed the bottom, before shoving it at Malfoy, who pulled out his own fancy peacock feather quill rather than accept Harry’s pen to sign his own name. As soon as he lifted the quill, the parchment quivered and duplicated. One copy disappeared with a pop, while the other flew across the room and stuck itself to the back of their door. All the arguing had tired Harry out, and clearly Malfoy felt the same, because they both got ready for bed rather quickly. As he climbed under the covers and turned away from Malfoy’s side of the room, Harry couldn’t help thinking that this was going to be a very long term.

* * *

> Roommate agreement of  _Harry J. Potter_ and _Draco L. Malfoy_ , written on  the first of September, nineteen eighty-eight . 
> 
> Room: _3F_
> 
> Right side: _Draco Malfoy_ Left side: _Harry Potter_
> 
> Question 1: Which possessions will be shared among the roommates, and to what extent?
> 
> _ Stationary and snacks left on desks or night tables are free to be shared, unless a note/prior communication has stated otherwise. _
> 
> Question 2: Does either roommate have pets? Will they be living in the room? If either has an owl, is the other welcome to use the owl to send post?
> 
> _ No pets. _
> 
> Question 3: Are guests welcome? Under what circumstances.
> 
> _ Guests can visit our room after 8 AM and must leave before 9 PM. Guests must be respectful of both roommates and their possessions while in our room. Either of us has the right to request that guests leave, if they are disrupting our study or sleep. _
> 
> _ Guests of a romantic nature are not welcome to stay the night. _
> 
> Question 4: What time is lights out?
> 
> _ Anyone who wants to sleep before the other is ready to turn the lights off will conjure black-out curtains and cast a nox.  _
> 
> Question 5: Schedule for shared space.
> 
> _ Malfoy gets the washroom from 7:00 AM to 7:30 AM, so that he has time to go to the Great Hall for breakfast before class. Potter’s reserved time is from 9:00 PM to 9:30 PM, to ensure he has time to shower after working out and before going to bed. _
> 
> Question 6: Storage.
> 
> _ Malfoy will use the top two shelves of the bathroom cabinet, and Potter will use the bottom two. Likewise, Malfoy will use the top shelf of the shower rack, and Potter will use the lower one. _
> 
> Question 7: Cleaning shared spaces.
> 
> _ We will take turns cleaning the ensuite every weekend. This can be done on either Saturday or Sunday, but not during either roommate’s reserved washroom time. Tasks must include sanitizing the tub, toilet and sink, mopping the floor, wiping the mirror, taking out the garbage and removing soap scum from the tub and skid marks from the toilet. _
> 
> Signed, ~~this first day of September,~~ _the second of September, 1998, at 1:15 AM_ ,
> 
> _Harry Potter_ and _Draco Malfoy_


	3. Household chores

Draco’s nose wrinkled as he levitated the trash bag out the door and down the hall. He moved carefully, hoping it wouldn’t drip on the floor, and flung it into the large bin on the side of the house with a satisfying thunk. MacMillian had gotten into a lot of trouble on the first day for having vanished the garbage from the common washroom instead of taking it out to the larger bins. According to the elves that had come in to lecture everyone that evening, it was irresponsible to vanish trash seeing as no one had concrete proof of where it went.

Thankfully the rest wasn’t too bad. After a few scourgifys and glass cleaning charms, along with a nice air freshening charm, the washroom was spotless and smelled of oranges. He repeated the process with the three other common washrooms in the building, though two of them also needed a refill on toilet paper. When the work was finally done, he trooped back up to his room, hoping to change out of the ragged clothes he’d put on in fear of cleaning, and get some reading done before dinner.

This whole living arrangement had received mixed reviews from everyone, including Draco. It was nice that no one was on the rotation every single day, allowing each of them a few days off per week, but at the same time, he felt like a bloody house elf. He’d had to learn the process of cleaning washrooms and mopping floors, though it had been a relief to find that he wasn’t the only one learning. When the elves had popped up to restock the food in the kitchen, at least half the house had swarmed them with questions about how to clean various parts of the house and how to do various spells. 

All the muggle-raised students seemed to have no problem with the washing machines in the back room, but Draco had been terrified and had offered to do Finch-Fletchley’s gardening rotation for him if he did Draco’s laundry. Draco had stood in the corner and watched in horror as his clothes spun around and around in a large, banging machine. They had, however, come out smelling of lavender-scented washing powder, so he couldn’t complain. He’d used drying and ironing charms on them rather than opting for the second machine, which Finch-Fletchley insisted could dry the clothes for him. 

Thankfully, gardening was something he  _ could _ do. He’d done quite a lot of it with his mother as a child and had always excelled in herbology. While the chores on the rotation only involved sweeping the patio and trimming the lawn, he’d taken it upon himself to plant a few common medicinal herbs in a small plot in the back. It wasn’t long before Longbottom had started planting all sorts of things as well, though he was respectful enough of Draco’s plot and never went near it.

Feeling a little better after changing and combing his hair, Draco settled down on his bed with his potions textbook, reviewing the steps for the potion they were going to make on Monday, a voice modifying solution. He had barely gotten through the first few steps when the door opened.

Potter trooped into the room wearing a sinfully tight quidditch kit, his broom slung over his shoulders. It took Draco a moment to pull his gaze away, not wanting to be caught ogling. As annoying as the git was, Draco had to admit that he was also incredibly fit. He was still quite thin, as if he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in his life, but he’d developed muscle in all the right places.

“Hey,” Potter mumbled, propping his broom against the foot of his bed. He walked over to his dresser and opened the drawers, yanking out a pair of thin joggers and a threadbare t-shirt. Why Potter insisted on wearing such plebeian clothes, Draco could never understand, but that didn’t stop him from trying to steal a few looks over the top of his textbook as Potter stripped down to his pants and redressed in his pyjamas. 

“Parvati said dinner is almost ready, if you want to come down now. She’s making cheese toasties, and they smell delicious.”

Draco had been doing his utter best to remain civil with his roommate, but the word toastie sounded so absurd, and he was a little turned on from having watched Potter change.

“What the fuck is a toastie?” he muttered, though he snapped his book shut all the same. Whatever it was, he was hungry, and there was no way he was walking back up to the school for food now.

“It’s a cheese sandwich, but it’s all warm and crispy. I hope she put bacon in them. They’re really good with a hot cup of tea.”

“Tea with supper? Preposterous,” Draco sniffed, following Potter out of their room and down the stairs. Potter merely shrugged, making a beeline for the kettle as soon as they reached the ground floor. Draco made his way over to the enlarged dining table, where two stacks of crispy sandwiches were waiting, along with a tray of cut up vegetables. He took a seat near the end, just in time to catch Patil’s spiel about how one tray full of sandwiches had bacon, and the other had tomatoes, for anyone who was vegetarian. Not quite caring which one he got, Draco reached out and took one of each, along with a handful of carrot sticks and cherry tomatoes. He was just about to dig in when Potter plopped down next to him, a teapot and two cups landing neatly on the table in front of them.

“I brought some for you too, since you’ve clearly been missing out on the miracle of toasties and tea for dinner all your life.”

Draco rolled his eyes, but as soon as he bit into the sandwich, it became clear that this was  _ exactly  _ the kind of meal that needed a cup of tea. With a grumbled thanks, he took a sip, ignoring the smug look on Potter’s face. 

The meal passed normally enough. The extended table was quite long, seeing as it had to accommodate more than 20 students, but he was used to such a set up, from all the dinner parties his parents had hosted before the war. There was a much less formal atmosphere here, however, with everyone chatting easily and moving about to help themselves to drinks or more sandwiches.

* * *

> **Cheese Toasties**
> 
> Ingredients (per 6 sandwiches): 12 slices of your favourite bread, 2 onions, Butter, salt, pepper, 18 oz gruyère cheese, 12 oz white cheddar, rosemary, thyme, mayonnaise, 12 slices of cooked bacon and 1-2 tomatoes (will vary by size)
> 
> Start by caramelizing the onions. Cut them into thin slices and sauté them on medium-low heat in 1 ½ tbsp butter and 1 tbsp olive oil. Add salt and pepper, and rosemary and thyme if you’re up for herbs. It’ll take about 10 minutes for your onions to caramelize nicely.
> 
> Butter two slices of bread for each sandwich, and put a thin, even coating of mayo on the other side of each slice. Heat up the frying pan again. Add a pat of butter and some rosemary. Give the pan a swirl to mix the rosemary into the butter. Place both slices of bread, mayo side down, onto the pan and take a moment to enjoy the sizzle.
> 
> Layer gruyère and onions on one slice, and cheddar, then tomato slices and/or bacon if using on the other. When the cheese starts to melt a little, and the mayo side of the bread starts to get crisp, sandwich the two slices carefully together. Cook on low for a few more minutes, until cheese is fully melted. 
> 
> Serve with warm soup or fresh veggies (or even a steaming cup of tea!). If you’re cooking for a crowd, the way Parvati did, you can assemble the sandwiches on a hot sheet tray, put butter instead of mayo on the outside, and place another hot sheet tray over them, then stick them in the oven for about 10 minutes at 350 degree F. A standard sheet tray can usually fit 6-8 sandwiches at a time.


	4. Sunday Roast

Harry was excited. It was the first Sunday back, and finally his turn to prepare dinner for everyone. Harry had never cooked with magic before (wild mushrooms and roadkill from their year on the run didn’t count) and wanted to do something spectacular with it. He’d spent the whole day yesterday researching and practicing the necessary spells, and he felt confident he’d be able to pull off an entire Sunday roast. 

He wasn’t a stranger to making a roast. While Aunt Petunia had never trusted him with the entire thing (except for that one time when he was 14, but they had done roast chicken just for the four of them that day, not beef for guests), she had made him do a lot of the tasks, including peeling and chopping vegetables, stirring gravy, mixing stuffing and preparing sauces. He’d been relieved to find most of the sauces in pre-made jars already provided by the elves, which meant he didn’t have to worry about those finicky details. 

Nonetheless, there was a lot of work to do. He banished last night’s pasta salad (courtesy of Ron) to the table, hoping to keep anyone looking for a late lunch out of his hair, and put on a red apron that was hanging in the pantry—he just hadn’t quite gotten the hang of that splatter proof spell. With a wave of his wand, he set up five cutting boards, five knives and five bowls along the counter. Reaching into the pantry (they’d all learned the hard way not to summon actual food when Millicent Bulstrode had wanted to make an omelette in the morning and had ended up covered in eggs) he pulled out carrots, onions, celery, parsnips and potatoes. Another wave of his wand set each station to chopping an unbelievable amount of vegetables—23 people was a lot to feed. He watched, mesmerized for a few moments, as the knives expertly peeled and sliced everything, the little bits levitating themselves into the bowls when they were ready.

Snapping himself out of it, he turned his attention to the cold pantry, from which he drew out four top rounds of beef. He’d specifically checked with the elves beforehand, to make sure there was enough of everything, and they’d been happy to help, giving him pointers about his spells as well. They’d taught him a useful little spell to tie up the roast, and when he tried it on the first one, he was pleased to see that the string was perfectly done, not squishing the roast (something he’d been punished for many times in his childhood). After tying up the other three rounds, he pulled out a sixth cutting board and started preparing herbs. Crushing bulbs of garlic, de-stemming rosemary and thyme, ripping sage leaves and counting out leaves of dried bay, Harry soon fell into a gentle rhythm, enjoying the feel of the familiar leaves under his hands. The elves had warned him that magic often changed the taste of such delicate herbs, but he didn’t mind going without—they’d make his hands smell nice. He seasoned the beef and loaded up the roasting pans, and before he knew it, all the meat and veg were inside the magically expanded oven. 

“Harry, are you in he- oh Merlin.”

Harry turned to face Hermione, who seemed shocked at--well, he wasn’t quite sure what had shocked her, but he had a feeling he was about to find out.

“Harry, what are you making for dinner?” she demanded.

With a sigh, he cast a muffliato over the door, before replying “A roast.” He’d wanted it to be a surprise, though he should have known by now that keeping secrets from Hermione rarely ever worked. Her eyebrows disappeared into her hair, and Harry almost laughed at the shocked expression on her face.

“You know how to make a roast?” she squeaked. “Isn’t that a lot of work?”

He shrugged. “It’s a lot easier with magic. I’m going twice as fast as I used to when cooking with my aunt.”

“You actually…” she trailed off, marching over to the oven and peering through the glass. Sure enough, four trays of roast beef and five trays of veg were sizzling away in the heat.

“Merlin, Harry. Why on earth was I the one sorting out food last year if you’re such a good cook?”

Harry shrugged guiltily. “I agree with Ron’s assessment that you’re the best at magic, but I was also a little preoccupied last year, and I guess that made me act like a bit of an arse. Sorry, ‘mione.”

She shook her head and gave him a fond smile, before pulling him into a hug.

“It’s okay. I’m just glad we all survived, and that the war is over now.”

“Me too,” he mumbled. “The war is over, and now we’re going to celebrate by enjoying a proper roast dinner. Speaking of which, I should get started on the stuffing.”

“Have you considered that anyone who is vegetarian won’t be able to eat roast beef?”

Harry nodded. “The stuffing and rolls, as well as one boat of gravy, are all going to be vegetarian. It’s literally just the beef that a vegetarian wouldn’t be able to eat.”

She nodded approvingly.

“Well in that case, I’ll let you get on with it. And to think I was hoping my pea and bacon pasta would be a popular dinner.”

Harry chuckled as he watched her leave, before turning to a bowl of stale bread he’d set to soak. It wasn’t long before he’d wrung it out, mixed it with mushrooms, chestnuts, cream and a variety of herbs and dried fruits, and popped it into the oven alongside the meat. He took a bit of time to baste the meat, before pulling out a bowl to make dough for bread rolls.

After watching in delight as the dough kneaded itself and rose in about five minutes thanks to the help of a few clever spells, he split them into round lumps with another wave of his wand and arranged them on a tray. They slid easily onto a fourth shelf that appeared in the oven for him, and with a sigh, he realised he was finally done—at least, for the time being.

With another wave of his wand, the dishes were all in the sink and washing themselves. Technically it was Hannah’s turn to wash the dishes tonight, but he figured the plates and utensils of 23 people was enough—she didn't need to wash all the stuff he’d used to cook on top of that. 

When everything was finally ready to come out of the oven, he tossed the trimmings and roasted veggies from the beef trays into a pot for a rich gravy while allowing the meat to rest. With a final flourish of his wand, he sent a Patronus out to each room to tell people that dinner was ready, along with two more to get Hermione and Ron to come help him levitate everything over to the table.

There were many ooh’s and aah’s as everyone watched Harry’s efforts from that afternoon sail out onto the long table. Having realised that everyone here was now of age, he’d even asked the elves if they had any wine to go with dinner that night, and they hadn’t disappointed, with multiple beautiful bottles sitting along the table.

“Harry, this is gorgeous!”

“It smells so good!”

“Who knew Potter could cook?”

“I’m so excited to eat!”

“Who needs elves when you have Harry?”

Harry smiled as he joined his classmates at the long table, drinking in all the compliments with pride. There was an amazing feeling that came with feeding people, especially when it was something they enjoyed so much. Harry was almost disappointed that his next turn to cook dinner would fall on a Tuesday—there was no way he’d have the time or energy to do something like this after a full day of class. 

“Um, so this boat of gravy, and the stuffing and rolls, and of course the veg, are all vegetarian. Otherwise, you all know what a Sunday roast is. Enjoy.”

“Um, do you want to carve the roasts, Potter?” Parkinson asked carefully. “It’s usually an honour reserved for the head of the table or the lord of the house, but in this case, it’s best handed to you since you did all this work.”

A few people looked at her in surprise, clearly not having anticipated Parkinson to be so considerate. Harry gave her a small smile and picked up the carving tools, before he realised he absolutely did not know how to carve a round of beef.

“This is a bit of a pickle,” he muttered. Looking up at everyone else, he held out the tools and said “Maybe someone who actually knows how to carve meat can do this?”

Everyone stared at him silently, and an unsettling realisation hit him—no one here knew how to carve.

With a sigh, he put down the tools and was just about to call one of the elves, when there was a knock on the front door. Seeing as he was already standing, Harry rushed over and opened it to find the Headmistress standing on the porch.

“Hello Potter. I was in the village and thought I’d stop by to see how you’re all doing. May I come in?”

“Of course,” Harry said, stepping aside to let her in.

“Something smells wonderful,” she commented. “Who made dinner today?”

“Um, I did, actually,” Harry said proudly. “Everyone’s sitting down to eat, and you’re welcome to join us, though we’re having a bit of trouble. Say, professor, you wouldn’t happen to know how to carve a roast, would you?”

“A roast?” As she said it, McGonagall stepped into the elongated dining room to find 23 of her students staring either at her or at a beautiful roast dinner. 

“Hello everyone. I merely stopped by to see how everything is going here, though it seems everyone’s at least well fed.” A few people chuckled as she turned back to Harry.

“You made a roast?”

He nodded. “And it’s going to get cold, but we have no idea how to carve it. Would you please help us out?”

McGonagall drew her wand, and with a few efficient swishes made perfect slices of beef. With a sigh of relief, everyone reached for something on the table and dug in.

“Is this wine, Potter?” she asked, giving him an exasperated look as she watched Zabini pour himself a glass.

“We’re all of age, and technically it’s not even in the castle, Professor,” he said, giving her a sly smile.

“Your father and godfather would be so proud of your rule breaking,” she said exasperatedly. Harry grinned, realising that she was absolutely right.

“Thank you for that, Professor. Will you be joining us?”

She shook her head. “I’ll be heading up to the castle to eat. As headmistress I do need to maintain a certain presence during meals. Though I will say that this looks wonderful. I’m very impressed, Potter.”

“Thanks, Professor,” he said shyly. It was high praise when Minerva McGonagall was impressed with you. Still basking in her praise, Harry saw her out and then turned eagerly back to the table. After all, he had a roast dinner to eat.

* * *

Despite the years of training on dining etiquette, and the fact that his parents had often allowed him a glass of wine on special occasions long before he was of legal age to drink it, Draco took another large and uncouth gulp of his wine, earning himself a raised eyebrow from Pansy and a cough from Blaise. He ignored them in favour of sulking over an admittedly beautiful roast. 

“Darling, you were just complaining yesterday that you miss having the good food the elves usually serve for dinner,” Pansy sighed. “I admit none of the other dinners this year were worth writing home for, but this roast is very well prepared. Why aren’t you enjoying it?”

“How can I? Of course perfect-fucking-Potter is able to make a full roast for 23 people. And what can I make? Nothing. I literally have no idea how to boil water.”

“The charm is _calor aquae_ ,” Blaise pointed out. “We learned it in fifth year.”

“I was employing hyperbole, but thanks for being a fucking git, Blaise.”

“Anytime,” Blaise said, popping a bite of carrot into his mouth. “I’m sure there must be something you can make.”

“I’m open to any suggestions. Though I don’t just want to make anything. You both know how much we’ve been complaining that the food has been plebeian. I’m sure no one else will hesitate to complain about whatever I make for the same reasons, and I absolutely will not stand for that.”

“Well if you want to stand out, I recommend doing something with fresh produce,” Blaise said with a shrug. “I feel like I’ve eaten nothing but carbs this past week. And everyone else must be agreeing, because despite the heavenly smell, no one has touched those rolls. At this rate the beef and the bread will go to waste because everyone’s simply gorging themselves on the veg.”

“The beef and the bread…” Pansy said thoughtfully. She suddenly sat up straight, as if an idea had occurred to her.

“What?” Draco asked, pushing a few parsnips around his plate.

“I think I know what I can make tomorrow!” she said excitedly. “Oh, Potter has just saved my arse.”

“Of course you get to prepare supper the day after the in-house chef does,” Draco grumbled. “And I get to go after, so while you get to profit off of delicious leftovers, I’m starting from scratch.” Pansy’s turn would be tomorrow, and Draco would have to cook the night after. He’d never even been in a kitchen before. What on earth was even in there?

“You could always just order takeaway for everyone,” Blaise suggested. “That’s what I’m planning for next weekend.”

“That’s cheating,” Draco pointed out. “Which I’m usually fine with, but after the recent beating my family name has taken in the public? Best not. Anyway, our vaults are still frozen, funds are a little tight for me.”

“Ah, I keep forgetting about that. Sorry mate.”

“Yes, well…”

With the added reminder that he was no longer wealthy, by any means, Draco’s mood soured even further, and he was still playing with his food long after everyone had finished eating and left. 

“Did you not like the food?”

Draco lifted his head to find Potter watching him carefully. He was tempted to sneer that anything Potter made was disgusting, and had the war not happened, he wouldn’t have hesitated to insult Potter’s cooking. But one didn’t just go around insulting the saviour these days, and anyway, it wasn’t as if it would be true. The little Draco had managed to eat was quite delicious. 

It wasn’t just self preservation that made Draco hesitate, however. Years of rivalry had made them quite attuned to each other, and Draco was able to recognise the anxious tone in Potter’s voice, the way his eyes flitted to the ground, as if he was expecting Draco to tell him he wasn’t enough. Merlin, this was the bloody saviour of the world. If he wasn’t able to shake the feeling that something he did wasn’t good enough, who could?

“Um, no, the food is of no issue. It was well done.”

Potter’s shoulders seemed to relax a little at the praise. Draco wondered why his opinion should matter so much—everyone else at the table had spent the whole meal waxing poetic about his cooking skills, and even the Headmistress had complimented him. Perhaps Potter’s ego was just that overinflated.

“You seem unhappy. Are you okay?” Potter asked. Draco nodded, hoping that Potter would choose to leave him alone, but he’d clearly had more wine than he’d thought, because his head gave a sharp twinge at the sudden movement.

“Yes, Potter, I’m fine. Perhaps a tad tipsy. No need to worry about me.”

Potter looked like he wanted to push the matter, but then he simply shrugged. “Do you want more, or shall I pack up the leftovers?”

Draco shook his head. “I won’t be eating more tonight, thank you.”

Potter nodded, and with a few flicks of his wand the remaining food slotted itself neatly into a couple of trays. Draco watched as he levitated it all back into the kitchen, disappearing around the corner. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to his plate and forced himself to finish what was on it. 

He did feel a little better after having eaten. Feeling quite full, he stumbled up the stairs and got ready for bed, not caring that it was still rather early. He didn’t want to think about how good a chef Potter was, or the fact that he wouldn’t be able to make anything worth eating on Tuesday. He racked his brain, trying to think of any recipes or cooking instructions he may have heard in his life, but nothing came to mind. He thought briefly of owling his mother, but if he wasn’t mistaken, she had about as much experience in a kitchen as him.

He fell into a restless sleep, chased by dreams of burnt food and jeering taunts, of house elves shaking their heads at him, and Potter showing off. When he woke way to early the next morning, he decided he needed to take matters into his own hands. Dressing quickly, he made his way up to the castle and hurried to the library. Madam Pince raised an eyebrow at him as he rushed past her—she must have barely unlocked the doors. 

He wandered around for a moment, keeping his eyes peeled, and finally found the section he was looking for: cookbooks. He made his way through the section, ignoring heavy, dusty old tomes in favour of smaller books, or anything that had the word beginner in the title. He finally settled on three modern-looking books; _Common Kitchen Charms,_ _The Hogwarts Graduate’s guide to feeding yourself_ and _Tastes and Tips from Gilderoy Lockhart’s personal kitchen_. He hesitated with that last one, considering Lockhart had long since been exposed as a fraud. People still used his books, however. From what Draco remembered, Lockhart had actually done all his research, and the information in the books was sound; it was Lockhart’s claim that all the adventures had been his own that was bogus. 

Annoyed that even a fraud knew more about cooking than he did, Draco made his way over to the counter to sign for the books. He was filling out the record cards for each of the books, when something made him pause. The last person to borrow  _ Common Kitchen Charms _ was… Harry Potter. He’d borrowed it on Saturday, meaning that he’d used it to help him with that roast. Draco knew Potter was a powerful wizard—Merlin, everyone knew Potter was powerful. But Draco also knew he wasn’t far behind. If Potter had managed to learn how to make a roast in one day using a library book, surely Draco would be able to make… well, not a whole roast, but something palatable. Maybe pork chops, or a casserole. Or maybe something exotic.

Draco kept sneaking glances at the books throughout the day, during meals and free time in class. What he saw wasn’t encouraging. While the spells looked manageable enough, he had no idea what they were supposed to do. Why would one want to beat a dough? Fighting with food seemed a little silly to Draco. And what on earth did “whisking” mean? It sounded like a kinky sexual position, and while he wasn’t usually averse to that kind of thing, he didn’t think it really fit in the context of cooking.

“I understand it’s like potions,” Pansy said later, when Draco relayed his woes to her and Blaise. “They give you ingredients and instructions, and you have to follow them.

“I guess,” Draco sighed. “It’s just, they’re instructions I have no idea how to follow. What’s the difference between a saucepan and a frying pan? Or a skillet and a dutch oven? And what on earth does whisking mean?”

Pansy shrugged. “I just sliced the rolls from yesterday, stuffed them with the leftover beef and veg, and poured some gravy on top for good measure. They look like sliders, so that’ll have to suffice for tonight.”

Draco groaned. “Why couldn’t I have gotten Potter’s leftovers?”

“That’s not something I ever thought I’d hear you say,” Blaise snickered.

“You’re no help,” Draco scowled.

“Maybe you can trade with Potter?” Blaise suggested. “Do his bathroom shift or gardening shift or something for him in exchange for him cooking again. Didn’t you do that with Finch-Fletchley?”

“I did, but I don’t want to ask Potter. I  _ know _ I can do it. I can cook just as well as him.”

Pansy and Blaise both snorted at the same time. Finally fed up, Draco slammed his book shut.

“Fine. I’ll just go read upstairs then.”

“While you’re up there, maybe you can ask your roommate to cook for you,” Pansy snickered. Draco didn’t even look behind him as he flipped her off over his shoulder. If his friends weren’t going to be any help, he’d just have to figure it out on his own.

Merlin, he was screwed.


	5. Roast Beef

> **Roast Beef**
> 
> You will need: Top round of beef (about 1.5kg), 2 onions, 2 carrots, 2 stalks of celery, 1 bulb of garlic, bunch of mixed herbs (ex. thyme, rosemary, sage), and olive oil
> 
> Preheat the oven to 475 degrees Fahrenheit. Make sure your beef is defrosted and removed from the fridge for 30 minutes before going into the oven.
> 
> Wash and roughly chop all the veg, including the garlic. You can peel them if you want, but it's not necessary. Toss them all in a roasting pan. Drizzle the veg with olive oil and season with the herbs. Give them a good toss to mix everything properly.
> 
> Rub olive oil all over the beef and season well with salt and pepper. Place it on top of the veg and slide the pan into the oven. Reduce the heat to 400 degree Fahrenheit and cook for about an hour. Baste it halfway through. If the veg is looking very dry, you can add a splash of water to the pan.
> 
> When the beef is done cooking, remove it from the pan and let it rest for 15 minutes, covered with a layer of aluminum foil and a tea towel.
> 
> If you plan to serve roasted veggies with this, make them while the beef is roasting. The veggies under the beef will be needed for the gravy.
> 
> If you prefer your beef more on the rare side, reduce cooking time by about 10 minutes. Increase it by 10 minutes for well done beef.
> 
> **Gravy**
> 
> You will need: the veggies that you roasted in the same pan as the beef, 1 tbs all-purpose flour, 1 L of stock (veggie, chicken or beef)
> 
> Scoop most of the fat out of the trivet of veggies and beef juices left after you put the beef to rest. Scrape everything from the pan into a pot and put it on the stove (better yet, if your pan is stove safe, just keep everything in there). Put the flour in and stir everything up, then use a masher to mash up the veggies. They should be really soft after baking for so long, and you'll end up with a lumpy, mushy mixture.
> 
> Pour in the stock and give everything a really good stir (make sure you scrape all the good stuff from the bottom of the pan). Cook for another 10 minutes or so, until the liquid is gravy-consistency. Push it through a coarse sieve to get rid of the vegetable scraps in there, and serve warm with the beef.


	6. His big gay crush

Harry stepped out of the washroom, flinging the wet hair off his face as he went. He glanced over at Malfoy, hoping he’d seen that and would be scowling at him. As childish as it was, Harry enjoyed riling Malfoy up these days, even if it was just over something as simple as a few drops of water on the floor. Perhaps it was all the immaturity he’d had to push down during the war resurfacing.

Unfortunately, Malfoy was reading very intently, and therefore did not notice Harry dripping all over the floor. Annoyed that his scheme to annoy Malfoy hadn’t worked, he made his way over to his side of the room and pulled on the pyjamas he’d laid out on his bed. He kept glancing at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye as he dried his hair and then the floor, but the git didn’t so much as twitch at his actions. With a frown, Harry got into bed and picked up his own book. He kept trying to focus on Gamp’s laws (it turned out that the no conjuring food rule was only one of several that Gamp had come up with), but his attention kept slipping over to Malfoy and the book he was so immersed in. He was definitely reading it—his eyes raced across the pages, which he turned every other minute or so. It must have been a book of spells or charms, because Malfoy had his wand in one hand, and was subtly practicing various movements.

Peering closely at the pile of books, Harry could make out that one of them was a Gilderoy Lockhart book. He couldn’t tell which one, but either way it didn’t make sense—Lockhart books hadn’t been on the reading list since second year. What could Malfoy possibly be doing such intent research on? What was he up to?

Not wanting to be caught staring, Harry took off his glasses to remove the temptation of looking and lay down, still wondering what Malfoy could be scheming. 

When he woke up again a few hours later, thanks to his ever present nightmares, Harry was surprised to find that Malfoy was still reading intently. Glancing at his watch, he was shocked to see that it was already 1 AM. What on earth was so interesting that he’d barely moved from where he was sitting on his bed? 

The question kept nagging at him as he got ready the next morning. Malfoy was asleep when Harry got out of bed, though it seemed he had put the books away somewhere. He mulled it over as he went down to the kitchen and helped himself to cereal—he’d had to buy his own box, seeing as the elves weren’t able to go into muggle stores, but it had been worth it to finally enjoy the overly-sugary marshmallow cereal he’d always envied Dudley for in their childhood—and came to the conclusion that it must be some kind of scheme to gain money. After all, the Malfoys were known for having gotten rich through generations of suspicious investments, and what was more suspicious than reading Gilderoy Lockhart so closely? He knew the Malfoys had lost a lot of money during and after the war, so it made sense that the youngest would want to gain it back. Harry scowled at the thought that it had to be done through some kind of scheme—couldn’t the git just finish his NEWTs and get a job like the rest of them?

The more he thought about it, the more Harry convinced himself that he was right. His roommate was being very suspicious. He missed his allotted bathroom time and was still in bed by the time Harry finished dressing and flung his bag over his shoulder. Harry wasn’t even sure if he was awake.

“You’re going to be late for class if you keep lounging around in bed,” Harry said sternly. He thought he heard Malfoy mumble something, but his warning was otherwise unheard or ignored. With a huff, Harry decided it wasn’t his problem and made his way downstairs to meet Ron and Hermione.

They were halfway along their usual route up to the castle, when Harry realised that he’d never been able to ignore Malfoy’s suspicious behaviour before, and that he wasn’t about to start now.

“Uh, Hermione? Do you remember a Lockhart book about making money?”

Hermione and Ron both stopped walking and turned to stare at him.

“Why do you want a book about making money?” she asked. “I thought you had your inheritance.”

  
“Yeah,” Ron added. “And why do you want a Lockhart book? I thought you had a brain?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as Harry snorted. 

“It’s not for me. I think Malfoy’s cooking up some kind of plan to get rich again. He was really hooked on a Lockhart book yesterday.”

“Harry,” Hermione groaned. “Lockhart wrote a lot of books, and even though his stories were lies, they were quite entertaining and informative. Anyway, Draco’s always been a studious person, I’m sure he enjoys reading books for fun. It doesn’t mean he’s up to something.”

“This wasn’t just a casual read before bed, I know it! He didn’t look up at me once throughout the whole evening, even when I purposely dripped water on the floor to piss him off.”

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look, before glancing away as if they were both trying not to burst out laughing. 

“What?” he demanded. Ron sighed, turning to look right at Harry.

“Harry. Mate. This is getting out of control.”

“What is?”

“Your obsession with Malfoy! We didn’t say much about it before because we were a little preoccupied being idiots in sixth year, but the war is over and we’re adults now. Just leave him alone!”

“I’m not  _ obsessed _ ,” Harry argued. “And might I remind you I was right in sixth year. He  _ was _ a Death Eater, and he was plotting to kill Dumbledore!”

“Voldemort had been trying to get rid of Dumbledore since before you were born, Harry,” Hermione sighed. “And you weren’t putting much of your attention towards  _ him  _ that year. You keep insisting that Malfoy’s up to something because it feels like a rational cover for your obsession.”

“I’m not obsessed. And even if I do focus on him a lot, it’s because  _ he is up to something _ . Why would I bother if he wasn’t?”

“Probably because of your big gay crush on him,” Ron said, smirking at him. 

Harry felt his face go red. They hadn’t really discussed his sexuality since he’d come out to his best friends a couple of weeks ago, but how could Ron be insisting that he had a crush on Malfoy of all people?

“Ron, just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I have a pash on every bloke I meet!”

“No, you’re oblivious to most of them,” Hermione agreed. “But you’re definitely sweet for Malfoy.”

“Not you too!” Harry groaned.

“Well it’s obvious, mate. You’ve both been pulling at each others’ pigtails since we were eleven. Back then it seemed like an innocent rivalry, but you should hear yourself now.  _ He didn’t look at me at all last night, even when I dripped water on the floor. _ Mate, you wanted his attention. That’s called having a crush on someone.”

“I… you…” Harry spluttered, getting even more flustered when his friends smirked at each other. “You’re both out of line. I do  _ not _ have a crush on him.”

“Yes, and the sky isn’t blue and I’m not in love with Hermione. Just admit it and move on mate. You can’t spend your life obsessed with Malfoy.”

Harry ignored the sappy look Hermione was giving Ron. “I know he’s up to something. This isn’t his usual behaviour. He wasn’t even awake when I left, so he’s definitely going to be late to class.”

“Harry, you even know what’s usual behaviour for him. No one else has noticed anything odd.”

“Well I’m his roommate. I see him more often.”

“Oh my goodness, they were roommates!” Hermione said, unnecessarily dramatically. “This sounds like terrible fanfiction.”

Harry had no idea what fanfiction was, but Ron laughed, so he assumed it was some couples’ inside joke. 

“You already knew we were roommates,” Harry pointed out. “You don’t need to act so surprised.”

“We’re not, trust us,” Ron snorted. “Anyway, our point is, stop obsessing. Even if Malfoy is reading Lockhart books to make money, there’s nothing wrong with that. We all know the ministry took most of his inheritance, he’s gotta live somehow and a Lockhart book wouldn’t suggest anything illegal. Let the bloke be.”

“And start walking, because we’re going to get late for class,” Hermione added, pulling at Ron’s arm. He let her guide him up the path, and Harry trailed along, still annoyed at his friends for brushing off his concerns like this. Why couldn’t they understand that he just  _ knew _ ?

As usual, Harry didn’t pay much attention in Potions. He kept glancing at the door, wondering when Malfoy would arrive. When the first period ended without any sign of him, Harry decided it was time to take a more active approach to this.

“I’m not feeling so great,” he said to his friends as they made their way out of the dungeons on the way to Defence. “I think I might go home and just-”

“Translation, your brain is going to explode if you don’t see Malfoy soon,” Ron said, cutting him off. “Not to sound too much like Hermione, but you can’t just skip class.”

Realising it was futile to argue with Ron about why he was leaving, he simply turned back towards the entrance hall.

“I ended the war and defeated Voldemort. If anyone can skip defence, it’s me.” 

“Mate, you did that with an Expelliarmus. Get over it.”

“Let him go, Ron,” Hermione said, a smug smile on her face. “If he’s pulling his  _ saviour of the wizarding world _ card, you know it’s serious. Go have fun with your lover boy, Harry!”

Before Harry could respond, insisting that Malfoy was  _ not _ his lover, she and Ron had already disappeared down the hall, leaving him to roll his eyes at thin air before turning and hurrying out of the main entrance. 

When he got home, Harry went straight upstairs, intending to corner Malfoy and force him to admit to whatever schemes he was working on. The only problem was, their room was empty. Not giving up quite yet, Harry snooped around a bit, hoping to find the books Malfoy had been reading the night before. Malfoy had many books, but they all seemed to be standard textbooks, or a few romance novels. He made a mental note of those to tease Malfoy about them later, but then realised that was a bad idea, since he would have to admit he’d been snooping through his stuff.

Deciding it would be better to find Malfoy than to continue looking through his desk, Harry stuck his head into the bathroom to see if there were any clues. The air was a little steamy, and smelled strongly of teakwood—Harry only knew that term because he’d been so curious after their fourth morning as roommates as to what that smell was that he’d taken a peek at Malfoy’s shampoo bottle. He grimaced at the thought of what Ron and Hermione would say if they realised he knew what Malfoy  _ smelled _ like.

Pushing it out of his mind for the time being, Harry made his way back down to the main living area. Malfoy had showered not too long ago, meaning he couldn’t have gone far. Harry hadn’t seen him on the walk back from the castle, so he had to still be at home.

He was about to walk past the kitchen and into the dining room when he heard a clattering sound from the kitchen. He turned back slowly, wondering what on earth Malfoy could be doing there. Harry had never seen him eating at the house, except for dinner—he always went to the Great Hall for breakfast and lunch. 

He poked his head into the kitchen to find an absolute mess. The door to the magically-cooled pantry was open, letting the effect of the cooling charm leak out all over the kitchen, and the counters were covered with all sorts of kitchen tools and gadgets. Malfoy was standing with his back to the door, bent over what Harry recognised as the book he’d been reading the night before. He had a potions smock on, which Harry found odd because despite his lack of skill in potions, he knew for a fact that it was only ever worn when someone was making the most toxic potions. 

“Are you brewing illegal potions?” he asked severely. Malfoy jumped, turning quickly to look at Harry, eyes wide. 

“N-no,” Malfoy squeaked, stepping to the side to hide the book behind him. Narrowing his eyes, Harry whipped out his wand and cried “accio book!” Malfoy scrambled to catch the book, but he wasn’t fast enough. Harry gave him a smug smile before looking down at— _ Common Kitchen Charms _ ? This was the same book Harry had read over the weekend before preparing his roast. 

“Give that back,” Malfoy growled, though his face was red, almost as if he was embarrassed.

“Why are you making a mess of the kitchen and reading about cooking charms instead of attending classes?”

“I’m not brewing illegal potions!” Malfoy insisted, neatly dodging Harry’s questions. “It’s not illegal to skip class. Why don’t you go back to school if you’re so worried about it?”

“Because I want to know what you’re doing,” Harry replied neatly, allowing Malfoy to tug the book back.

“You’re not an Auror yet, Potter, and anyway, I’m not on probation. You don’t have to worry about my every move.”

“I’m not going to be an Auror,” Harry said without thinking. It didn’t occur to him until he saw Malfoy’s eyes widen that he’d never actually said that aloud.

“You’re not? But you’d be perfect for it!”

Harry shrugged. The cat was already out of the bag, with Malfoy anyway, and he’d been wanting to tell someone about this for a while now.

“I’m tired of fighting. I always thought that becoming an Auror would be useful in fighting Voldemort. I didn’t realise I’d beat him at the age of 17. But now that I can do anything… well, there are just so many other things I could be doing. I could be a… an accountant!”

“An accountant?” Malfoy asked, clearly thinking Harry had finally snapped. “You’re not becoming an Auror because you want to be an accountant?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Not necessarily. It was just an example.”

“The first thing you thought of when discussing  _ exciting career possibilities _ was to be an accountant?”

Harry had a million retorts ready, but at that moment he noticed a hint of a smile on Malfoy’s face. His roommate was  _ teasing _ him. And not in a mean way either.

“I never said anything about exciting. I think I’ve earned a little peace and quiet.”

“There’s a difference between peaceful and boring,” Malfoy snorted, turning back to his book.

“Well what do you plan to do then?”

“Definitely not become a chef,” Malfoy mumbled, flipping through the pages of the book.

“I dunno, being a chef sounds like fun,” Harry said with another shrug, forgetting Malfoy couldn’t see it. “I didn’t like cooking a lot when I was little, but it’s more fun now that I can use magic for it.”

Malfoy spun around to face him again. “You learned to cook when you were little? Without magic?”

Harry nodded slowly, not quite wanting to tell Malfoy about the Dursleys. He was surprised to note that he was feeling concerned when Malfoy seemed to deflate in front of him.

“Fuck,” Malfoy muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I’m never going to be able to do this.”

“What exactly are you trying to do?” Harry asked, glancing around at the mess again. 

“What does it look like, Potter? I’m trying to cook. It’s my turn to feed the whole damn house, and I haven’t the first clue on  _ how _ .”

Harry’s eyes widened as he realised that Malfoy’s explanation made perfect sense. Of course the spoiled git wouldn’t know how to cook. But Harry knew from their seven-year-long rivalry that the boy was a perfectionist and wouldn’t settle for badly made food, either.

“Well, what are you having trouble with?”

“I… don’t even know. Which knife do I use for each vegetable? What’s the difference between a stock pot and a frying pan? How do I turn the stove on, and what does  _ medium heat _ mean? It’s not quantitative! Neither is  _ a pinch _ of salt. What if I was a giant, and had a larger hand?”

“Oh, wow. You actually don’t know  _ anything _ about cooking.”

Malfoy folded his arms with a huff. “Well you don’t have to rub it in.”

“Do you want me to help?” Harry asked. He secretly hoped Malfoy would say yes—it would be a little embarrassing to have to go back to class now, only to admit to Ron and Hermione that they had been right. Not that they hadn’t been around to witness all his most embarrassing moments to date—they were his best friends for a reason.

“I… well, you’re welcome to stay if you’d like,” Malfoy said imperiously. Harry was able to recognise it for what it was though—Malfoy wanted his help, needed it even, but he was too proud to ask for it. Some sadistic part of Harry wanted to hear him ask, though.

“Well, I probably should go back to class, so if you don’t need me, I’ll just…”

He turned slowly towards the doorway, begging to a deity he didn’t believe in for Malfoy to call him back. He really would rather stay here and cook than go back to class, even if it was with Malfoy.

Despite his slow pace, Harry still made it out to the hall before Malfoy finally cave and yelled, “Wait! Potter!”

Harry turned back to him, cocking an eyebrow and trying not to look relieved.

“I… could use the help. Please.”

Harry grinned. “Sure. So, what are you planning to make?”

“Well, there’s this recipe for butternut squash ravioli with shrimp in a rosé sauce, that sounded like a simple enough meal.”

“Delicious. I didn’t know the elves stocked up on frozen ravioli.”

“I… what? Why would anyone freeze ravioli?”

Harry narrowed his eyes. 

“Don’t tell me you were planning to  _ make _ ravioli, for thirty people, from scratch?”

Malfoy gave him a look of pure confusion. “Well, yes. Is that not the point of cooking? To make  _ food _ ?”

“Do you have any idea how difficult it is to make pasta correctly? Especially one that has a filling in it? Do we even have a pasta machine, or a crimper cutter? Or do you know spells to replace those?”

Malfoy seemed to pale with every word Harry said. Clearly he hadn’t realised that “simple to eat” was not the same thing as “simple to make”.

“You need to start with something simpler,” Harry pointed out. “How about soup?”

Malfoy wrinkled his nose. “Soup? For supper? How plebeian.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “It’s simple, and if you do it right it’ll be hearty and filling. And it’ll be a good way to get some veg, I feel like we’ve been eating a lot of carbs lately.”

“It’s funny, Blaise said the same thing.”

“Well, he was right, as am I. What about leek and potato soup? Leeks aren’t quite in season yet, but it’s a good recipe to teach you the basics with.”

Malfoy shrugged. “I guess it’ll have to do. Where do we start?”

Harry looked around the kitchen and realised that there would be no way they could work in this mess.

“Well, just like in potions, you should start with a clean workspace. We won’t need most of the things you have out, so let’s put it all back.”

He drew his wand and waved it in a long sweeping motion, not unlike the way Dumbledore had repaired that Muggle house Slughorn had commandeered in their sixth year. It was very satisfying to see everything sweep back into its proper place, leaving them with an empty counter.

“Where did you learn to do that?” Malfoy asked. Harry could tell he was trying not to look impressed, but he was failing miserably at it.

“Dumbledore,” Harry shrugged. “He used to give me private lessons.”

He would have felt a little guilty about lying so blatantly, but the look on Malfoy’s face was priceless. Anyway, he was sure Dumbledore would have just chuckled, had he been here to hear it.

“So, we should start with the vegetables. Do you want to use charms to chop, or do them by hand?”

“Um… I don’t really know the difference,” Malfoy admitted. “ _ Can _ we use charms? I know we have to avoid it with Potions, because certain ingredients will react badly if cut with magic.”

Harry considered that thought. It was true, and considering how good Malfoy was with potions, teaching him to cook might be really easy if Harry just compared everything to that.

“That’s true for potions, because the ingredients can be volatile. But leeks aren’t dangerous. Using a charm makes it go faster, and is less tiring.”

Malfoy nodded. “Well then, charms it is.”

“You’ll need to set up six cutting stations: one for the leeks, one for the potatoes, one for carrots, one for celery, one for onions and one for garlic. Each station should have a board, a knife, and a large bowl.”

Malfoy nodded, then looked expectantly at Harry, who raised an eyebrow at him again.

“Well, get to it. It’s you who has to cook, not me.”

Illustrating his point, Harry sat down on the old wicker chair in the corner of the kitchen, crossing one leg over the other, to watch. Grumbling, Malfoy summoned six cutting boards and laid them out across the counter. He reached for his wand again, when Harry coughed pointedly.

“Don’t summon knives,” he said, and Malfoy blushed at having forgotten such a crucial rule. He slouched over to the knife block and started pulling out knives, though he paused when he realised that they were different.

“The chef’s knives are good. The elves have labeled ours with blue dots on the handles.”

He watched as Malfoy pulled out all the chef’s knives, realising at the same time as him that there were only five. 

“You can use the paring knife, with the orange dot, for the garlic.”

It was decidedly odd to watch a Malfoy setting up boards to chop vegetables. The man moved with the kind of grace that would be expected of a rich and aristocratic family, but the effect was ruined by his hesitation and fumbling with the unfamiliar tools. Harry was starkly reminded that the man in front of him was just another student. Just another teenager, who’d never been taught these things.

“Can I call you Draco?” Harry blurted. Malf-no, Draco- turned suddenly, still brandishing the paring knife.

“Why would you want to do that?” he asked cautiously.

Harry shrugged. “It’s weird thinking of you as Malfoy and teaching you to cook.”

Draco considered this for a moment.

“Only if I can call you Harry.”

Harry wasn’t expecting that. “Why?”

“Potter and I have been rivals for seven years. I hate the thought of asking a rival for help. Harry, on the other hand, feels like someone who could be an acquaintance… maybe even a friend?”

Harry couldn’t help smiling at that.

“I think we could be friends. I’ve grown up since our first year. Have you?”

Draco chuckled. “Depends who you ask. But yes, I think I’ve grown up enough for that.”

“Brilliant. Now start chopping vegetables.”


	7. A Scheme of Soup

Draco couldn’t help beaming as he hunted through the cold pantry, trying to figure out if he was in fact holding a leek, or if this was something completely different. He couldn’t quite be arsed to care however, because Pott-no, Harry- was sitting out in the kitchen, teaching him to cook and being friendly! It was everything his eleven-year-old self had dreamed of.

He paused while reaching for the carrots, realising that two years ago, his pride would never have let him accept Harry’s friendship, or even his help. Yet here he was, accepting both within the span of twenty minutes. It was funny how much things could change across a war.

As he tried to juggle everything that was already in his arms while also picking up a few large onions, Draco’s mind wandered to the fact that Harry already knew how to cook. He’d had a bit of a heart attack when Harry had said he’d learned to cook growing up, because that had meant that there was no way Draco would learn in a day. Now that he’d been reassured that he wouldn’t fail at preparing supper tonight, he couldn’t help wondering who had taught him. Had it been the Weasleys? Weasley had made a surprisingly tasty pasta salad, so clearly someone had taught him a certain amount of cooking too. Or maybe it was the Muggles Potter had been raised by. After all, he must have learned the Muggle way, since he’d needed to borrow the cooking charms book from the library.

His thoughts were interrupted by the feeling of the mound of vegetables in his hands tumbling to the floor. Cursing, he kneeled to grab them, just as Harry poked his head in.

“What happened?”

“I’m having a tea party with the vegetables,” Draco snarked. “What does it look like? I dropped them.”

Harry chuckled as he sent the vegetables on the floor flying over to the counter with a wave of his wand. He turned back to Draco and extended his arm to pull him up. Draco stood, and bent over to dust himself off, hoping Harry wouldn’t notice his blush—honestly, how dumb could he be, to not have thought of just levitating the vegetables to the counter?

Though if he was going to be completely honest with himself, he would have to admit that he was also blushing because a certain rugged roommate of his had just had to help him off the floor. How could he be blamed for not thinking straight when the object of his long-standing crush was crowded into the same cramped pantry as him?

Draco shivered at the thought, but before he could enjoy it properly, Pott—no, dammit, it was Harry now—stepped back and out of the pantry. Draco let his shoulders slump for a moment, before swishing his wand at the rest of the vegetables he needed and following them out of the pantry.

“So what do we have to do with all of these?” Draco asked, looking at the veritable mountain of veg on the counter. He’d followed Harry’s instructions exactly, but surely they didn’t need this much food?

“Are you sure this is the right amount?” he asked, sizing up the stack of carrots. 

“We’re more than twenty young adults,” Harry said with a shrug. “And we like to eat. Trust me, we’ll need a lot of carrots.”

“And this is just for the eighth years,” Draco pointed out. “I don’t want to imagine how much food the entire castle eats everyday.”

Harry’s eyes widened as if he was just considering this for the first time too. Feeling a little smug that he’d managed to shock him, Draco turned back to the cutting boards, only to realise he had no idea what he was doing next.

“Um, so with these vegetables…”

“You’ll need to use a chopping charm on the big veg, and a mincing charm on the garlic.”

Draco remembered having read about those charms. Flipping to the correct page in the book, he said the incantation, and with a wave of his wand, one of the large knives started chopping potatoes. He watched in fascination as the knife produced perfect little cubes, which sprang into the bowl once they were ready.

It wasn’t long before the knife made it through the entire sack of potatoes. When the last cube flew neatly into the bowl, the knife settled down on the edge of the board, as if waiting for Draco’s next move.

“Cool. Now you gotta chop the rest,” Harry pointed out. “If you concentrate, you can usually have at least three knives going at once.”

He was right, and a moment later, Draco was mesmerised with the sight of multiple knives swiftly on the counter, as if manipulated by a professional chef. It struck him that this would have been exhausting to do by hand. How on earth did Muggles manage?

“So you learned to cook without magic? Wasn’t it exhausting having to do all this by hand?”

Harry’s face went a little pale, which was odd, but he nodded his response to Draco’s question. When he didn’t say anything else, Draco considered dropping it, but he was too curious. 

“Where did you get this recipe then?”

Harry seemed to perk up a bit at that. “In that book, actually,” he said, pointing at the charms book. “I read it over the weekend looking for spells to make the roast go faster, and some of the recipes in the back sounded pretty tasty.”

“I didn’t even get that far in it,” Draco admitted. “I got the idea for the ravioli from Lockhart’s book. I guess I should have known not to trust that fraud. The charms book is good, though.”

“It is,” Harry agreed. “I really love magic. I think growing up without it has made me appreciate it even more. I remember walking into Ron’s house for the first time and being so surprised that dishes could wash themselves, or that a sweater was being knit without hands moving the needles.”

“You know how to knit too?” Draco asked. Merlin, the saviour was full of surprises.

“No, but I watched Hermione do a lot of it when she was trying to free house elves. It went a lot faster when she was doing it with magic rather than by hand.”

“I imagine Muggles must struggle to get by without magic?” Draco asked hesitantly. Just like most Purebloods who’d never met a Muggle in their life, he was rather curious what they were like.

“They make do. They’ve created a lot of tools to compensate. Like pens. It’s much easier to carry than a couple of quills and a pot of ink, and they’re sturdy enough that they don’t snap when you grip them too hard, like quills.”

“Is that what all these tools are?” Draco asked, indicating the drawers that held most of the kitchen gadgets. He hadn’t been able to sense even the barest hint of magic on them, though he had likened a fair number to medieval torture devices he’d seen illustrated in their history texts.

“Yeah. I can show you how they work after we set the soup to simmer.”

It turned out that soup was actually quite simple. Once the veg was all chopped, they dumped them all into a large cooking cauldron and set it on the stove. Draco had panicked for a moment when he realised that the four burners on the stove would heat the pot unevenly—they were different sizes after all. But Harry had reassured him that it didn’t matter, reminding him that food was not as volatile as potions ingredients and therefore wouldn’t explode if placed over an inconsistent heat source.

“I still don’t believe that we’re just serving everyone soup for supper,” Draco lamented, watching as the soup bubbled inside the cauldron. “It’s literally just vegetables, and some water.”

“Do you know how to make anything else?” Harry taunted playfully. Draco glared at him, which only made Harry laugh.

“Okay, what do you think we should eat with soup then?” he continued.

“Something crunchy,” Draco mused. “Mother’s favourite starter for solstice dinner is a winter squash soup, and the elves always garnish it with these crispy triangular things, and a sprig of… well, some kind of herb.”

Harry snorted. “That’s specific. I have an idea for the crispy triangles, but we’re gonna have to try a couple of herbs out with the soup to see what works best for that.”

“Really? How does one make triangles?”

Harry smirked at him. “Well, Draco, a triangle is a shape, with three straight sides.”

“Shut up, you prat, I know that. I did go to charms school, you know. I meant the edible variety.”

“I was thinking parmesan crisps. You literally arrange shredded parmesan in a triangle on a sheet tray and bake it.”

“Parmesan… as in cheese? And what’s a sheet tray? And what does baking mean?”

Draco had an idea of how this was going to work, but it was still hilarious to see Harry’s eyes widen in shock, before all the hope drained from his expression. He must be really hopeless with cooking if Harry was giving him that expression.

“Yes, parmesan cheese. Go get a block, and I’ll find the grater.”

Draco thanked Merlin and Morgana that the cheeses were at least labeled in this house, and grabbed a large chunk of the cheese from the cold pantry. Harry pulled a metal stand with holes in it out of the drawer and stood it up on a plate. 

“You have to run the cheese over the holes, like this,” he said, grabbing the cheese from Draco’s hands and gliding it down the stand. Once the cheese reached the bottom, he set it aside and lifted the stand to reveal thin strings of cheese sitting on the plate.

“Now you try.”

Draco mimicked Harry’s actions and was proud to produce his own little pile of strings.

“Perfect,” Harry said, returning to his chair. “Now keep going until you’ve filled about two plates. Parmesan crisps will get eaten quickly.”

Draco turned back to the tiny pile he’d created. It didn’t even cover a fraction of the plate. With a sigh, he leaned his hip against the counter and started grating. He couldn’t resist checking his progress every few swipes, but it was definitely slow going.

“So how have you kept it such a secret that you don’t want to be an Auror anymore?” Draco asked, for lack of a better conversation topic. “You’d think the  _ Prophet _ would have made it front page headlines by now.  _ Saviour Fights No More _ , or something dramatic like that.”

“Well, mostly because no one knows except for you. And it had better stay that way,” he said, his voice vaguely threatening. Draco nodded, not wanting to get on Harry’s bad side, especially since they were doing so well.

“So what do you want to do then? Do you actually want to be a chef?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know if I would be able to enjoy cooking all the time for the rest of my life. Anyway, I really only know what my aunt taught me, and a few things I read in some books. My cooking is nothing special.”

“Tasted pretty good on Sunday,” Draco muttered, finally moving on to the second plate.

“Yeah, I don’t know how I’m going to top a roast.”

“You could always top me instead,” Draco thought as he started grating the cheese again. He was really getting the hang of this.

“Excuse me?” Draco dropped the cheese onto the plate and whirled around at Harry’s shocked tone. His disbelieving expression and blush told Draco that he must have thought out loud. 

Fuck.

“Are you… I just… did…”

Draco spared a moment to think that Harry was kind of cute when he was spluttering like this. In the next moment, he realised he may as well say it out loud—he was either going to get hexed or not, so he may as well make the most of it.

“You know,” Draco started, giving Harry a smoldering look. “You’re rather cute when you’re flustered. Especially when it’s because of little old me.”

Harry turned even more red if that was possible. He opened his mouth again but didn’t produce anything more than a squeak. Afraid he’d broken the saviour, Draco decided it was time to cut him some slack.

“I’m only taking the mickey, Harry,” he sighed, turning back to the cheese. “Relax, I know you’re not gay.”

The silence stretched on as Draco continued to grate the cheese. 

“I am.”

It took Draco a moment to register what Harry had said—he was about to ask what to do next. Eyes wide, he turned slowly to look at Harry.

“I am gay,” Harry said again, sounding more confident this time. 

“Merlin, what kind of alternate reality have I woken up in? Harry Potter doesn’t want to be an Auror, he’s gay, and apparently teaching me to cook. Speaking of which, what do I do next?”

“I’ll admit, I’ve had the same thought a few times,” Harry said with a soft chuckle. He got up and made his way to the cupboard, pulling out a collection of flat metal trays. “Everything is so different now that there isn’t a war to fight. These need an easy-lift spell by the way.”

Draco pulled out his wand and cast the necessary spells, watching as Harry started arranging the cheese in triangles on the trays. The triangles the Malfoy house elves had made were considerably larger, but then again, they had to feed 23 people, not three. If they made larger triangles, he’d be grating cheese all day.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about myself, and what I want my life to look like, now that I have a bit of say in it,” Harry continued. He left Draco to arrange the cheese and wandered off to a cupboard where he started rifling around for something. “Some things are a little easier, like realising I’m gay, or that I don’t want to be an Auror anymore. Some things are a little harder, like deciding where I want to live after Hogwarts, or what I want to do instead of being an Auror.”

“Merlin, it sounds bloody difficult being you,” Draco joked, hoping to lighten the mood. He was relieved when it worked, and couldn’t help laughing with Harry.

“Not more difficult than it must be to be you,” Harry said pointedly. Draco shrugged. 

“I’ve known I was gay for a while, and I also knew I wanted to be a Healer. Of course, I wasn’t able to tell anyone other than Pansy and Blaise about either of those things, but now that the war is over, I have a lot more freedom to do what I want. Not unlike you.”

“Wasn’t it hard to lose your fortune, though?” Draco considered his answer as he watched Harry sprinkle some little green flakes over the cheese, before sliding the trays into the oven. He closed the door and turned a dial, before turning expectantly to Draco, waiting for his answer.

Draco sighed. “It was a shock. Mother and Father left the country, and I had to crash with Blaise for the summer. I’m okay for now, since everything I need is provided here, but it’s a little terrifying to think that whether or not I have money to eat after graduating is going to rely on my marks and my employability. I’m lucky to have friends who don’t mind supporting me, but I can’t spend the rest of my life living in Blaise or Pansy’s guest room.”

“I get the feeling. It was a relief to think that I would never have to go back to my Aunt and Uncle’s house when I came of age, but it wasn’t until I had left that I realised I had nowhere other than Ron’s place to go to. Which is fine, they’re great people, but I can’t keep living off of my friends. It’s funny, you have a plan, but no money to support it, and I have all the money I’ll ever need, but no plan on what to do with it.”

“Why didn’t you want to stay with your Aunt and Uncle?” 

Harry gave him a searching look.

“I get the feeling I’ve already told you enough of my secrets for today. How can we be friends if I have no more secrets to reveal to you?”

Draco couldn’t help laughing at that. 

“I think you should tell me a secret now,” Harry continued, and suddenly, his grin turned predatory. “Maybe you can start with how long you’ve thought I was cute?”

Draco groaned—he’d really hoped Harry would let that go. It was reassuring, though, that he didn’t seem mad about it

“Long enough that I don’t want to count back and put a date on it,” he admitted. “Are you asking because you’re going to mock me for the rest of the day, or because you’re interested?”

Harry didn’t answer right away, though the little blush returned.  _ Interesting _ .

“The crisps are done,” he said, indicating the oven. “I don’t know what green garnish your elves used to put on your soup though. There are a lot of choices in the cupboard.”

Draco shrugged, summoning a bowl and ladling a bit of the soup into it. He handed it to Harry and pointed at the collection of herbs on the counter.

“I guess we’ll have to try a few different things then,” he said, ladling out a bowl for himself as well. He looked up and was surprised to find Harry giving him a very meaningful look. Merlin, he could get lost in those eyes.

“Yes. I think we will.”

* * *

> **Leek and Potato Soup**
> 
> You will need: 2 large carrots, 2 stalks of celery, 2 medium onions, 4 cloves of garlic, 3 large leeks, 4 large potatoes, 7 cups of vegetable stock (chicken can also work well), salt and pepper to taste.   
>    
> 
> 
> Peel, wash and roughly chop the leeks. You may want to wash them again after chopping, because dirt really gets into the layers. You’re aiming for bite sized pieces.
> 
> Wash, peel and chop the carrots, celery and onions. Mince the garlic.
> 
> In a large pot, heat up some olive oil. Toss in all the chopped veggies and give it a good stir. Put a lid on the pot, but let it sit ajar, and let the veggies cook for 10 minutes on high heat, stirring regularly so that they don’t stick to the pan. If they’re sticking a lot, you can toss in a splash of water, but the leeks will release their own water, so it shouldn’t be a problem.
> 
> While the vegetables are cooking, cube up the potatoes. Once the vegetables are soft, add the stock and potatoes to the pot, and give it all a good stir. Turn the heat down and simmer until the potatoes are soft, about 10 minutes. Season with salt and pepper. If you’re more adept at cooking than Draco and prefer a smooth soup, you can pulse the soup into a thick, creamy texture, or if you like the chunky veg, enjoy it as is.
> 
>   
>    
> 
> 
> **Parmesan Crisps**
> 
> You will need: parmesan cheese, dried basil
> 
> If it isn’t already done, grate the parmesan. How much cheese you need depends on how many crisps you want. 100g makes about 12 crisps.
> 
> Arrange the grated parmesan in thin circles (or triangles, if you’re a house elf living in Malfoy Manor) on a baking tray lined with oven-safe parchment paper, or a silicone baking mat. You can really do any shape you want, but be wary that the cheese will melt and spread, so detailed shapes aren’t going to work out very well.
> 
> Sprinkle a little bit of dried basil over each cheese shape and bake for 5-7 mins at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Give them a moment to cool, and enjoy!


End file.
